Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, 'Perfect fool.'

'Not a bit of him,' returned Michael. 'He knows who's the best solicitor

in London, and it's not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn't I

pitch it in hot?'

Pitman returned no answer.

'Hullo!' said the lawyer, pausing, 'what's wrong with the long-suffering

Pitman?'

'You had no right to speak of me as you did,' the artist broke out;

'your language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.'

I never said a word about you,' replied Michael. 'I spoke of Ezra

Thomas; and do please remember that there's no such party.'

'It's just as hard to bear,' said the artist.

But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; and

there was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses' heads with

a splendid assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuring

forlorn upon the cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides

and trickled down its elegantly varnished legs.

140

The Wrong Box